The darkness consumed me. I don’t remember leaving my estate or entering the hallway of her house. He was still over her, glistening, exhausted from the attack. Her body lay in a heap below him, her eyes unblinkingly fixed on some point beyond his face. Only the low sickening wheeze that escaped her swollen lips was an indication of life.
The short hairs at the back of his head stood on end and he turned slowly to face me. He smiled and spread his arms, welcoming my attack. I lunged and felt his considerable strength as I knocked him off Ngozi. He struggled for a moment, before I broke his arms and tore flesh from his neck. The hot sticky liquid against my lips awakened feelings in me and I gave in to the thirst, violently draining the life from him.
I felt her eyes on me, horrified, pleading with me to stop before she finally lost consciousness. Her body was broken and battered, her heartbeat barely discernable and so my decision to save her was not even in question, it never was. Still, what I intended to do came with a significant price. I only hoped in time, she would forgive me.
In the days following the attack she fought a high fever and nightmares that sometimes ended with me. I busied myself with removing evidence of the attack from her house and tending to her. I rarely left her side. Finally, on the evening of the tenth day she opened her eyes and looked at me, conscious and tentative. She tried to force a smile, but everything came flooding back and with them the tears. She looked away and reached for my hand and after a few moments turned back to me and smiled.
“Thank you.” She said, startled at first by the strength of her voice. I felt grateful and undeserving of her gratitude.
“How do you feel?” I asked, unable to smile. Instinctively she felt her face and sat up looking at her hands.
“How do I look?” She asked shakily.
“You…you’re beautiful.” I said.
“Nicholas…can you get me a mirror?” She asked, barely controlling the panic in her voice.
Without a word, I got her a hand held mirror. I stood at the side of the bed as she studied her face in disbelief. Then the tears returned.
“My God Nicholas, I have no scars. I’m a doctor…I know what happened to me. What have you done?”
“It was the only thing I could do.” I said meeting her gaze, unable to hide my shame. “This is what I am Ngozi. I am sorry, but I could not let you die.”
She turned the mirror down on the bed and looked away. “So what am I now?” She asked.
“I’m not certain…you are changed, but not in the same way as others, like me. Like us.”
She turned the mirror to her face again and opened her mouth looking for any sign of what she saw of me, when I was covered in the blood of her attacker.
“There is much we must discuss.” I said evenly. “I am so sorry Ngozi, but by saving you I also protected the life you now carry.” As she wrestled with conflicting emotions, I found little comfort in what lay ahead…for both of us.
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